You Have Entered The NoHiei Zone
by JaganshiKenshin
Summary: Poor Kurama! He's having a bad night, and Hiei's only making it worse.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the _Yuu Yuu Hakusho_ characters (they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not make any money from said characters. Don't sue.

What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be met with the katana, or worse.

The events in _Idiot Beloved_ take place shortly after the Dark Tournament; _Firebird Sweet_ directly follows.

Title: You Have Entered The No-Hiei Zone: Part One

Author: JaganshiKenshin

Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor, and Beyond

Rating: T for anime-type violence and tough talk

Summary: Poor Kurama's having a bad night.

A/N: We take a short break from updating Firebird Sweet to post a completed sidefic!

One day, Kurama just started talking to me. Complaining, rather. The result: a comedy of errors from the world of IB and FS, taking place at an unspecified (and deliberately mysterious) time. Written in rare [for Kenshin, anyway! first-person POV, it takes Kurama's usually sleek, unruffled demeanor and gives it a bit of a twist.

You can read this on its own, I suppose, but it'll make more sense if you are familiar with both Idiot Beloved and Firebird Sweet.

This is the first sidefic I can actually post in completed form! (And now, in shorter installments, and with NEW IMPROVED formatting!)

As always, I thank you for choosing to read this, and I welcome your reviews.

A serial killer's on the loose!

**You Have Entered The No-Hiei Zone (Part One)**

by

Kenshin

Ahhhhhhhhhh.

That first moment of exquisite pleasure when your head hits the pillow. Especially after a long, frustrating day of doing everything and accomplishing nothing.

My eyes drifted shut.

The kiss of clean, fresh linens. The comforting swath of blankets. The blissful state when one is seconds away from dreamland.

The spark of someone else's spirit aura: a white-hot mix of purpose, arrogance, impatience.

I tried ignoring it at first---and the inevitable scratching at the window. The window I had made sure to lock.

But it was merely a window lock. Nothing that Hiei could not circumvent. The slider moved back with a metallic hiss. A blast of unpleasantly frigid air swept my bed.

I knew he was in the room and refused to acknowledge him.

"Kurama," he said.

I pulled the blanket over my head. "Go away."

"Get up."

"No."

The bed jiggled. "Five minutes," I murmured, turning over.

"That's what Shay-san always says."

"Then she is a wise woman and you should listen to her. In fact, go back home and do so at once."

"Can't. Get dressed."

I told him to do something one does not normally tell Hiei to do and expect to live. He snorted a laugh in response.

Then silence. But his ki still permeated the room. I slid the blankets down and risked a glance.

Hiei was balanced on the footboard, hands in pockets. "Koenma wants you."

"Good for Koenma." I turned over and buried my face in the pillows.

"He's called in the team."

"You don't work for Koenma any more, remember? You work for ROME." I laced that last word with all the sarcasm I could muster.

"Come as you are, then." The bed jiggled. A lot.

"Leave me ALONE!"

Hiei gave the bed a kick. I exploded from the blankets, grabbing for his throat.

Naturally, Hiei was elsewhere. Poised in the open window, arms crossed. "If I can make sacrifices, so can you."

"Sacrifices?"

He shuddered. "I have to wake Shay-san."

0-0-0-0-0

We gathered in Koenma-sama's office, Kuwabara-kun standing at parade rest, looking indecently alert, Hiei seated on a bench facing the desk.

I was using the wall to hold me up; Shay-san was using Hiei's shoulder.

For twenty minutes, Koenma had briefed us on the case, appearing in his teenage Ningenkai form. He takes that form whenever an attractive female is present, apparently whether she is conscious or not.

Sighing, Koenma put his head into his hands. "Is she even listening to me?"

"Every word," Shay-san murmured. "Something about chocolate milkshakes."

"I give up." Koenma parted the sea of papers on his desktop; they fluttered to the floor like leaves in late autumn. Jorge made a dive for them, but too late; Kuwabara silently helped the blue oni gather the fallen paperwork.

"I want Jorge along." Hiei's words startled us all, Jorge most of all.

"Why?" Koenma-sama scraped both hands through his hair. "He's not good for anything."

Jorge took on a wounded expression. "Koenma-sama, you always say that!"

"Only because it's true." Koenma accepted a sheaf of papers from Kuwabara.

"I am _so_ good for something," protested the blue oni.

"Sure he is," purred Hiei.

Koenma narrowed his eyes. "And what might that be?"

Hiei's grin was pure brimstone. "Bait."

0-0-0-0-0

Urameshi Yuusuke alone was absent from the team, babysitting an extremely inebriated and projectile-vomiting Atsuko. I was thinking he had the right idea.

The threatening note Koenma received had stated, in florid, overblown language, that the culprit would 'run amok in the very salons of your unprotected city,' blah, blah, et cetera, 'plucking from amongst you the most helpless of victims; I shall mute the voices of the mighty, and all shall bow down before me.'

The usual blather. No one takes that sort of thing seriously.

Except that four innocent boys, still in their teens, had already been abducted this past month. Their bodies were found with the bones turned to pulp.

The note mentioned a specific date and location: a costume ball at an exclusive new venue, the Imperial White Crane Hotel's Hyperion Ballroom.

Koenma-sama had said he did not know who the note came from---a carrion crow had delivered it; whereupon it was promptly eaten by one of Jorge's assistants.

So we went from his offices to our respective homes, and an hour later entered the Hyperion Ballroom.

Jorge was decked out in tiger fur, purple lipstick and gold earrings; Kuwabara---the only one of us regulars who appeared to make a real effort at costume---came as an American gumshoe, quietly menacing in trench coat and fedora; Shay-san had on bulky gray sweats; Hiei wore a sleeveless black shirt and loose black pants.

Just to be different.

The ball was already in full swing. There was a bandstand at the far end of the ballroom, and the slightly sticky, droning chords of the band-of-the-moment, Vapeur, had the effect of a soporific. The parquet floor was packed with revelers dressed as every conceivable type: I saw Goths and Gojiras, dolls and dandies, priestesses and Power Rangers among them. But nothing that smacked of youki.

We performed a quick perimeter sweep, Shay-san with Kuwabara, me with Hiei, and Jorge hanging out in the middle of the dance floor, pretending to be human.

"Got enough belts on you?" I shot a sour glance at the fire demon's midsection, which was nipped in by a profusion of white circlets. "What are there, five? Seven?"

"What do you care?" His unruffled demeanor---the demeanor of someone who has had enough sleep---only served to spur my resentment.

"Why you and me," I carped, "and not you and Shay-san? Don't you care about protecting 'the little woman?'"

He shrugged. "She's gotten really good with that Beretta. Besides, when she uses Command Voice, even I head for the hills."

"No katana?"

"Don't need it," Hiei said. "Not for this crowd."

"Arrogant little---"

Two werewolves approached, one wearing a badly-done rubber mask and the other with full theatrical makeup. They gave us a bold stare. Mask Werewolf stuck an elbow into Makeup Werewolf: "Hey, get a load of those two."

"Yeah," the other one snickered. "Dressed like that boy band from the stone age."

"Romantic Soldier, wasn't it?" Giggling, they went on their way.

My hands clenched into fists. Hiei appeared not to notice. "Someone needs to case the upstairs," he said. "It's a big hotel. I'm fastest."

"Lovely. You go and do that."

"Don't fall asleep while I'm gone," he cautioned.

"I'll strive not to."

As soon as Hiei darted out of sight, I collapsed into the nearest chair. Luckily it had a small table in front of it, in case my head should drop of its own accord.

Across the ballroom, I saw Shay-san speak to Kuwabara. Then she approached me. "Anything so far?" she asked.

"Alas."

"Us neither." Shay-san drew another chair over and collapsed next to me. Her fierce brand of American beauty seemed a bit faded at the moment; rubbing her eyes, she stifled a yawn.

I caught the yawn, then gave her a weary smile. "What are you dressed as?"

Angling her head to peer down at the baggy, hooded sweatshirt, which read 'Loyola Marymount,' she said at last, "A ragamuffin. Think I'll pass for a boy?"

The voluminous garb hid her figure, as well as the pancake holster housing her gun, but her face---

She cast me a wry look. "Ah, well. Let's hope this perv goes for adolescents." Working a baseball cap out of her pocket, she jammed it over her head backward, covering the red-gold hair. "What are you dressed as?"

"An overworked student and physician's assistant who never gets enough sleep."

"Silly me. I should have guessed by the luggage under your eyes."

"Tell you what," I ventured. "This place has rooms upstairs. With beds in them. Why don't we sneak off for a nap?"

"I wonder who would come to our funeral."

"You know as well as I do that Hiei would never harm you."

She slid an arm round my waist. "Poor dear Shuu-ko. I'll come to your funeral."

"Deal." I dropped my head into my arms. "Here lies Minamino Shuuichi, AKA Kurama. He died of exposure---to Hiei."

"Mou." I heard her slide the chair back. "I'm off to troll the men's rooms."

"Mnf," was all I came up with. The band droned on. Flocks of sheep arrayed themselves against my closed eyelids. I was about to drift off.

"Oh, Sir!" Jorge trumpeted in my ear. Reluctantly, I lifted my head. Jorge stood there like a disco caveman, wringing his hands in consternation.

"I haven't been accosted yet, Kurama, Sir. What shall I do?"

"Try harder."

"I will! Thank you, Sir!" Beaming at me, Jorge scuttled off. Dragging myself to my feet, I attempted to do the same, but only managed to achieve a snail's pace. A groggy snail.

Hiei was nowhere to be seen among the revelers, but I spotted Shay-san ducking out of the ballroom, and Kuwabara heading toward me. I trudged to meet him half-way.

Kuwabara squinted at the black-leather, black-haired musicians occupying the bandstand. "What's that group's name?"

"Vapeur."

"Oughta change it to Sleeping Pill." Kuwabara shook himself like a dog. "Someone throw a cold drink in my face."

"Remind me to buy their CD the next time I have insomnia."

"Sure thing." Kuwabara lowered his voice. "Nothin' yet from this side. You got anything, Kurama?"

I shook my head. "What about you? Are you sensing any demonic ki?"

"Yeah," he said. "Yours, Hiei's, and Jorge's."

"Well. That narrows it down."

"Could also be someone who can hide his aura. You can."

"To an extent. When I've had a decent night's sleep."

"Don't look now." Kuwabara sidemouthed me. "But that classmate of yours is here, too."

"Who?" Quickly I scanned the crowd.

"That bunch near the free bar." Kuwabara jerked his head in their direction.

Not far from us stood Kaitou Yuu, with his inevitable sycophants, all of them dressed as 18th-century European dandies. "Kaitou? What's he---?"

"Probably covering the party for one of those stupid arts journals."

"For joy."

We watched as Kaitou and his hangers-on siphoned drinks like their guts were on fire. Jorge wandered, lonely as a cloud, in the middle of the ballroom, trying to get accosted.

One of Kaitou's cohort elbowed another, then giggled at Jorge. "Two words," he told the second sycophant. "STER-oids."

"That's one word," corrected Kaitou.

"Where's Hiei?" Kuwabara was pretty good at that sidelipped gumshoe delivery.

"He told me he was going upstairs to 'case the joint,' I believe. Maybe he stole a nap."

"Naah. Shorty may be a jerk, but he's no slacker." Giving his fedora a tug, Kuwabara headed off to investigate a gaggle of Goths slouching near the bandstand.

There followed a half-hour of fruitless searching, during which I received some odd looks, one proposition, and a pair of extremely dry and bleary eyes.

I was only putting off the inevitable---the stalker was unlikely to go after anyone right in the middle of a crowded ballroom. Time to find some dangerously secluded spot.

I ducked into the nearest men's room to administer eyedrops, but Jorge was right on my heels, and hogging the mirror.

Adjusting his enormous gold earrings, Jorge turned to me, quivering with eagerness. "Do you think I look all right, Sir?"

"I'm quite certain you do," I soothed.

The door opened. "Any time you two are done imitating a pack of girls," Hiei said.

Jorge brightened. "Any luck, Sir?"

"No." Hiei shoo'd him out: "On to the next bathroom."

I squinted into the mirror. Hiei flicked a glance in my direction. "Assuming Kurama is done primping."

Brandishing the bottle, I waggled it in his face. "I was trying to see whether I needed some eye drops."

"Of course you were."

"Are you suggesting I have succumbed to vanity?"

"I'm suggesting my stupid woman spends less time fussing in the mirror than you do."

Irritating little fire demon.

"Here." Snatching the bottle from my hands, Hiei forced me to my knees, tilted my head back, thumbed my right eye wide and dropped fluid in. "Better?"

"You enjoy bullying people, don't you?"

"Shut up and hold still." He pressed his thumb to my left eyelid.

Which was when the door crashed open, tumbling us both to the cold tile floor.

I snarled at Hiei: "Get OFF me!"

"Well." An eighteenth-century fop surrounded by sniggering dandies leered down at us, waving a hankie. "At least now we know which is the top man."

Before I could react, Kaitou slid a camera from his ruffled sleeve. The bulb flashed, then he and his cohort left in a riot of giggles. Kicking Hiei aside, I shot after them, but Hiei hauled me back with one hand on my collar.

"Forget it," he advised.

"Aren't the rumors bad enough without---"

Grinning, he brandished a roll of film between thumb and forefinger like the entrails of a dying oni. "Idiots. Now give me that other eye."

Hiei had managed to hold on to the eye drops as well. Sometimes he has his uses.

(To be continued: Will the boys find the culprit before he strikes again?)

-30-


	2. NoHiei Zone, Part Two

Disclaimer: Kenshin does not own the _Yuu Yuu Hakusho_ characters (they are the property of Togashi Yoshihiro et al), and does not make any money from said characters. Don't sue.

What Kenshin does own, however, are all the original characters in this work. Any attempt to "borrow" these characters will be met with the katana, or worse.

The events in _Idiot Beloved_ take place shortly after the Dark Tournament; _Firebird Sweet_ directly follows.

Title: You Have Entered The No-Hiei Zone: Part Two

Author: JaganshiKenshin

Genre: Action/Adventure, Humor, and Beyond

Rating: T for anime-type violence and tough talk

Summary: Poor Kurama's bad night is about to get worse.

A/N: We take a short break from updating Firebird Sweet to post a completed sidefic!

One day, Kurama just started talking to me. Complaining, rather. The result: a comedy of errors from the world of IB and FS, taking place at an unspecified (and deliberately mysterious) time. Written in rare [for Kenshin, anyway! first-person POV, it takes Kurama's usually sleek, unruffled demeanor and gives it a bit of a twist.

You can read this on its own, I suppose, but it'll make more sense if you are familiar with both _Idiot Beloved_ and _Firebird Sweet_.

This is the first sidefic I can actually post in completed form! As always, I thank you for choosing to read this, and I welcome your reviews.

So far, the killer's evading everyone

**You Have Entered The No-Hiei Zone (Part Two)**

by

Kenshin

If I don't do something, and quick, I told myself, I shall fall asleep on my feet.

We had been casing the Hyperion ballroom for three hours and nothing had happened other than Jorge complaining he could not get accosted, and that he smelled octopus. To which I replied that he could avail himself of the free buffet any time he pleased.

There was no sign of the criminal who had murdered those four young men. And the soggy chords of Vapeur were effecting me like a tanker of knockout drops. I wove groggily to yet another of the many bathrooms (this one, a painfully-hip gray granite affair about the size of a small airplane tarmac) and staggered up to the sink. A splash of cold water in the face might help.

The handle of the faucet seemed stuck. I turned it harder. Nothing. Muttering an uncomplimentary phrase, I gave it a yank.

Water gushed, drenching me with a chill shock. Gasping, I leapt back, just in time to see Hiei lean against the wall, smirking, as the front of my sodden shirt dripped water onto the floor.

"This is a really good look for you, Horse," he deadpanned.

Drawing myself up to full height, I said, "Just because Horse is one possible reading of the kanji for my name, you need not insult me."

"There's Clothes-Horse. Let's not forget that."

"One of these days, you'll run out of nicknames. And then where will you be?"

"In a state of relief."

I considered for a moment attempting to strangle him, but he was both rested---and dry. "You were so much more fun when I was doing the teasing."

"Poor baby. Is your diaper chafing as well?"

"Why aren't you out trying to lure the stalker?"

"Guess I look too much like rough trade."

"And I don't?" I demanded, indignant.

"No. In fact, it's your trump card. Poor harmless-seeming schoolboy Minamino-kun, until the unfortunate enemy comes too close." He yanked a handful of paper towels from the dispenser and shoved them at me. "How many freaking bathrooms does this place have anyway?"

"I don't know." I mopped water from my shirt. "I think they replicate, like bunnies."

"I think we've been had." Hiei handed me another bunch of toweling.

The door opened again. A rather substantial creature festooned in chains and black leather entered, then gave us a glare. "You jerks!" she hissed. "This is the ladies' room."

"Really?" Hiei matched her glare for glare. "Then explain the presence of these urinals."

"Sexist pigs!" The creature marched out in a high dudgeon.

"Maybe it's because we're working in pairs," mused Hiei.

"Time to split up?" I suggested. Then heard a distinctly feminine giggle coming from one of the stalls.

"I didn't know you were an item to begin with," said a familiar voice.

Hiei snorted.

The door opened, and our "ragamuffin" emerged bleary-eyed and rumpled. "I've been trying that for the past hour," Shay-san mumbled. "Going it alone, that is. So has Kuwabara."

She trudged to the sink; I beat Hiei to the tap, turning it on so she could splash her face. I barely suppressed the urge to stick out my tongue at him.

"I figured since I'm the smallest and most helpless-looking," she continued, "our perp would come after me. Not that I fell asleep in there," she amended, blushing.

_Lucky girl!_ "I would never even suggest such a thing," I reassured her.

Hiei beat me to the towels. He did not suppress the urge to shoot me a triumphant sneer.

"I figured also that this note might be a ploy," she said, drying her hands.

"I thought that too," I said, slowly.

"A diversion." Hiei wadded the paper towels, tossing them in the trash. "Send the team on a wild goose chase, while the perps pull off the real job elsewhere."

She nodded, angling a look my way. "Except for one thing."

"In a hotel of this caliber," I expanded, "there would be bathroom attendants."

"Inside job," began Hiei.

"Someone on-staff," I finished.

Shay-san frowned. "Has anyone seen Jorge?"

"Yes." I rolled my eyes. "All too often."

"I meant lately," she supplied.

The door creaked open. Our gumshoe entered, glancing around at each of us. "Hey, guys." Kuwabara stifled a yawn, but I caught it anyway, and echoed it. "What's Neesan doin' in the Men's Room?"

"Failing to capture the perp," she informed him.

"Yeah." Kuwabara went to wash up; I noted Hiei offered him no help. "Me, too."

So there we all were: myself exhausted, Shay-san game but weary, Kuwabara showing signs of fatigue, and even Hiei looking a bit faded. "That note," I began.

"The ransom note?" Wadding his paper towels, Kuwabara overhanded them into the trash.

"Its style seems familiar," I pondered. "Overblown, self-important."

Hiei nodded. "I'm thinking the same thing."

"I _so_ want it to be Kaitou," I said, wistfully.

The public doesn't know this about Hiei---but he's an excellent mimic; whenever Romantic Soldier released a new single, Hiei would amuse us by beating Kaitou Yuu to the punch, emulating Kaitou's excoriating reviews before they actually appeared in the papers. ("Must our sensibilities be forced to suffer through yet another cookie-cutter, frenetically upbeat and hypoglycemic number from the tedious little boy band known as Romantic Soldier?" ran one of Hiei's parodies, nailing Kaitou's actual review nearly word-for-word.)

"I don't think Kaitou's got that kinda power," said Kuwabara. "Not even with his Ability."

Shay-san nibbled a thumbnail. "Is it beyond him to pull something like this as a joke?"

I wondered. Details of the murders had made it into the papers, but gruesome was not exactly Kaitou's style.

Still. People will always surprise you.

And while we were all clustered together hoping that this was nothing more than a stunt courtesy of Kaitou Yuu, it happened.

"Wait," said Hiei, holding up a hand for silence. "Do you smell---"

Another stall opened. A skinny, bug-eyed boy slouched out, with a boneless appearance to him, and arms and legs seemingly too long for his meager frame. He looked us over, then smiled.

"The joke," he said, in a voice that sounded like he'd eaten too much cheese, "is on you." He raised a long, limp hand. "Mist of Terrifying Transformation!"

_Fwap_.

A puff of noxious blue smoke billowed out from the boy, stinging my eyes. I coughed; others were hacking too.

The smoke dissipated. And instead of a human boy, we were faced with an octopus-demon the size of an economy car, its multiple sticky limbs writhing with the sound of melting taffy.

"This is a bad thing, right?" asked Shay-san.

"I believe so," I said.

We were all tired. Which was why we stood an instant too long, blinking dumbly at the cephalopod apparition. Its glistening amber hide and soft, baggy head made it look a bit like a sweet roll.

"Great," Shay-san muttered. "A sticky bun with tentacles."

"A sticky bun? How dare you?" The creature shrieked a high gale of evil laughter, pointing a tentacle towards its head. "I am the Great DaiTako-sama."

"It's rude to refer to yourself with an honorific," said Kuwabara.

"Really?" it squelched. "Neither the great Kurama nor the great Hiei together could find me with a map and a flashlight!"

I still wasn't taking this very seriously. "Not to mention Hiei's Jagan."

"You would mention that, Kit-kun," snorted Hiei.

"Hey!" protested Kuwabara. "What about the great Kuwabara Kazuma and my powerful sixth sense? I couldn't find you either."

"That's right," Hiei agreed. "And neither could Jorge. Next time I'm bringing my katana. Tako yaki, anyone?"

"Ah, well." Shay-san sighed, dusting her hands, assuming Command Voice. "The sticky bun in front of---"

The creature raised itself on all eight tentacles. "Voice-Stopping Veil of Severe Darkness!"

A jet of black miasma boiled out from the creature's underside to strike Shay-san. She put a hand to her throat. Her mouth worked, but no sound came out. The octo-demon wrapped her in one of its tentacles, binding her fast.

"Touch her and die!" Baring his fangs, Hiei leapt for the creature.

"Guess again, runt," drawled the lazy, plum-pudding voice. Lightning-quick, it plucked Hiei from mid-air, then whipped a tentacle around each of us.

Octopi are armed not only with a crushing beak and powerful tentacles, but the suckers on the underside of those tentacles are razor-edged. These suckers had already cut through my shirt, scoring my arms so that blood dripped from my wounds. Bare-armed Hiei had it worse, covered shoulder to wrist in his own blood. Kuwabara and Shay-san were thankfully somewhat better protected by their heavier garb.

But we were in a jam.

Our Spellcaster had been effectively muted, and bound, so neither could she go for her gun. Kuwabara might have been able to summon his Spirit Sword, but the creature would see it coming, and go for Shay-san.

Which left me. And Hiei.

And I was too depleted to summon a demonic plant.

"So this is what you wanted," growled Kuwabara. "All of us, together in one shot."

"Yes," sniggered the octopus demon. "Frightfully clever of me, if I do say so myself."

"No wonder you thought it was Kaitou," spat Hiei. "This fool sounds just like him."

That comment earned Hiei an extra squeeze from the creature's tentacle. Fresh blood spurted from the wounds on his arms. An eerie calm settled in the fire demon's eyes. "Try that again," Hiei purred. "I can bite it off for you if you like."

"Do," countered the octopus, "and I'll give the girl twice what I gave you."

The door bammed open. I gave a little groan. "Kaitou," I said, without enthusiasm. "You are aware that your eyeglasses really don't work with 18th-century fopware."

Kaitou lifted a supercilious eyebrow. "Your ignorance is showing, Minamino. Eyeglasses had already been invented then."

"Not those coke-bottles you're wearing," said Kuwabara.

"Make yourself useful," I told Kaitou. "Help us out here."

Kaitou studied the octopus. "Quite a costume," he said.

"I've plenty more where that came from." DaiTako snaked an extra tentacle around Kaitou. Kaitou just stood there blinking.

But a Look passed among us.

Years back, Hiei and I had conquered another 8-armed creature by coordinating our attacks against the demon Yatsude. And while Hiei could easily send his fire along the tentacle holding him captive, such a move was risky. A cephalopod can spare a tentacle, and it could react fast enough to kill Shay-san.

Kuwabara understood. He kept talking, loud. "So you're a coward as well as a liar, you slithering worm. And now you got innocent people involved. What gives you that right?"

The octo-demon rolled sticky eyes at Kuwabara. "Shut up or I'll mute you as well, with a side order of crushed ribs."

"Go ahead," sneered Kuwabara. "Threatening unarmed men seems about your speed."

With an awful squelching noise, DaiTako tightened its grip on Kuwabara, who yelped in pain. But that one can take more than his share.

And all we needed was a few more moments' distraction. "Kaitou," I suggested. "Perhaps you'd consider writing this up in your column."

"Gub-gub-gub," was Kaitou's reply.

"Shut up, all of you!" The octopus emphasized his threat with a hug that slammed the breath from my lungs and threatened the structural integrity of my ribcage.

"Bastard," spat Hiei. "Pick on someone your own size."

"Love to, Chibi." With a flourish of his glutinous tentacle, the octo-youkai lifted Hiei until Hiei's candle-flame hair scraped the ceiling, then slammed him back to the floor.

But Hiei can take a punch, too. All that got our enemy was a crimson deathglare.

I shot a glance at Shay-san, who was, sensibly enough, not wasting energy. But the wide gray eyes asked a question.

I thought long and hard about the arsenal in my hair. In my exhausted condition, about all I could summon was ivy. And not even the poison kind.

We needed a swift, deadly strike.

Tentacles would not be his vital spot---face it, octopi have eight of them. No, our attack must be a head-blow. We needed a sacrificial lamb. I flicked a glance at Kuwabara-kun.

No lamb there, but a lion.

I exchanged another glance with Hiei. He blinked in understanding.

And Kuwabara warmed to his task. "Why, you senseless bastard!" he seethed, struggling against the tentacle that held him fast. "Calling you a worm is an insult to worms the world over! If you weren't the coward you are I would---"

His words were cut off in a yelp of pain as the octopus applied crushing pressure.

I spoke with as much cool insolence as I could muster. "In what manner did you select your victims?"

DaiTako gave a squicky laugh. "Some poor dupe would wander by an alley where I was hiding. If he looked young and defenseless I grabbed him."

"Yellow-bellied weakling," growled Kuwabara, only to cry out in pain as the octopus focused its anger on him.

"I knew that serial-killer ploy would get your attention," it sneered. "You're all such meddlers! It's impossible for a demon to do as he pleases these days, thanks to you. Now the only one left for me to pick off is Urameshi. Think he'll see me coming while he's mopping up the drunkard's puke?"

Hiei lifted his lip. "You're exactly the kind of bastard who pisses me off--" but the enemy tightened its grip and cut him off in mid-breath.

"Who's the fool here?" DaiTako's laughter rang off the tiles.

The door crashed open. It was our 'bait.'

"Oh, Sirs!" Jorge clasped his hands in glee. "Someone just asked me out on a date! Whatever shall I--"

_Now_!

Summoning my final shreds of spirit energy, I sent a numbing mist (courtesy of a mushroom spore found in the lakeside gardens of a certain Aunt Carmel in North America) along its tentacles to freeze them, simultaneously shooting a Thrashvine from my hair to whip round the head of the octo-creature.

Instantly, Hiei ignited the vine.

An unearthly shriek rose from DaiTako as its head burst into flame. Hiei slashed his way out to free Shay-san. Kuwabara summoned his Spirit Sword, hacking us both free in a nice two-handed stroke.

Somewhat begrudgingly, I got Kaitou away and helped him to his feet.

For a few minutes all we heard---and smelt---was roasting octopus. And then it was over. Nothing left but smoking piles of charred cephalopod meat.

Kuwabara poked at the grisly mess with the toe of his wingtipped shoe. "Dead," he announced. "Like a doornail."

"Something about this doesn't seem quite right," muttered Kaitou, shakily adjusting his thick eyeglasses.

"Then go to sleep," I suggested, dusting him with pollen from the Dream Flower. "I only wish I could."

Kaitou sank to the floor, an expression of deep bewilderment etching his brows.

Hiei had an arm around Shay-san, supporting her. Whatever else one might think of him as a mate, he is, without doubt, an protector par excellence.

"I can talk again," she wheezed, then gave way to a prodigious yawn.

This time we all caught the yawn, even Hiei. Then I smiled wearily at her, jerking my head in the direction of the roasted boy-killer. "Care for a snack?"

Shay-san gave a delicate shudder. "You know I don't eat anything that has tentacles."

"I do," said Jorge, happily.

0-0-0-0-0

It was dawn when I dragged myself home.

We had dealt with Jorge's "date---" the insider, who turned out to be nothing more than a disgruntled restroom employee--- and I had dealt with Kaitou via the Dream Flower, and a side order of Forget-me-Lots.

This was one arts column Kaitou wouldn't be writing.

I don't recall ever feeling so tired in my life. However, there were one or two things I needed to do before collapsing.

Grabbing a sheet of paper and a marker, I sketched a rough silhouette of my friend's mantled figure with its candle-flame hair, circled it, drew a diagonal slash across it, then taped it to the window.

Then, almost as an afterthought, I sprinkled a little bit of warding-pollen on both drawing and window.

With Hiei, you never know.

- 30-

(More sidies to come! I hope you had as much fun reading this new-improved-with-formatting version as I did writing it.)


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